


that’s so us.

by LeotheLionathefootofOrion



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Barebacking, Beach Sex, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Hisoka and Illumi being sweet with each other because I say so, Hisoka cooks, Hisoka's Bungee Gum Nen Ability (Hunter X Hunter), Illumi digs a hole, Illumi-Centric, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neurodiversity, Rough Sex, Set a little while after the Hunter Exam, Top Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Vacation, but also they have Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeotheLionathefootofOrion/pseuds/LeotheLionathefootofOrion
Summary: Hisoka persuades Illumi to come for a vacation with him. You know, just boyfriends with trauma having a domestic ‘ole time together. And beach sex.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 41
Kudos: 441





	1. Chapter 1

Illumi cannot pinpoint the exact moment in which he lost his mind. He thinks that he must have been very young. Perhaps even before Milluki was born. He can remember almost nothing of his childhood, which he suspects is another symptom of his madness. His first memory, clear and perfectly formed, is holding his father’s hand and walking the long tarmac sidewalk towards Heaven’s Arena. 

That year or so had been the best of his life, despite the many beatings he received at the hands of the senior competitors. He had enjoyed himself quietly, had entertained himself with television shows he never saw at home, and foods he had never touched before. There was no torture at Heaven’s Arena, and the training involved lifting weights, rather than exposure to electricity and poison and his father’s fists. Abandoned at Heaven’s Arena he had been happy. In all probability, the madness had already set in.

Illumi Zoldyck existed on the earth for three reasons: to prove the consummation of his parents hurried and early marriage, to act as an experiment and a trial to facilitate the creation of the perfect Zoldyck heir. And finally to help train aforementioned heir to the heights of perfection when the time came. Illumi Zoldyck was just shy of being a person. He had been from the moment of his conception: a tool, totally expendable.

He sort of liked it, being an almost person. The lack of control he had over his life made things easier. Decisions were black and white. He didn’t have to worry about dying because it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he was mad, either. That was a relief.

And then Killua runs away and everything turns on its head. The world is no longer black and white at all. His mother is screaming at the walls and clawing bloody streaks down his cheeks. His father is quiet, insistent, unyielding. Illumi is mad, he must be mad. Because inside he is a hundred different emotions that he shouldn’t allow himself to feel: betrayed, angry, hurt, aching, grateful, lonely. 

He digs a hole in the middle of the woods and dives inside. There’s no one to see him do it but shame burns hard in his cheeks. Only one person gets to see him like this and it isn’t his mother or his father or one of the silent sneering butlers. One person in the world can watch Illumi dig a hole in the ground and smile, laugh and call him “love”.

Hisoka Morow is mad too. He must be, to love Illumi like he does.

Hisoka likes bubblegum, reality television and breaking other people’s limbs. By some strange twist of fate he lives at Heaven’s Arena. It seems to be the only place where Illumi is destined to feel like his madness is, at the very least, understandable. Hisoka gets it. He’s completely insane and he revels in the fact that everyone knows it. He is also oddly well adjusted to the world in which he lives. Suicidal or not, he buys his groceries every week and records every episode of “Made in Azia” which comes on the television. To Illumi’s knowledge, Hisoka has seen every single episode of the show and had “relations” with several of the cast members.

Illumi doesn’t really watch television, but “Made in Azia” doesn’t have much of a plot and is fairly easy to follow along with. Hisoka sits him down in front of it with a glass of white wine and instructs him to relax. It has been three days since Killua left the Zoldyck estate with their father’s permission. Illumi is sitting on Hisoka’s couch, wearing Hisoka’s Heaven’s Arena gift shop T-shirt. He has not been able to bring himself to say a word for 72 hours.

When the episode ends Hisoka turns to Illumi. The lack of makeup and the way his hair flows over his shoulders make him look very real and touchable. He smiles and his eyes crinkle up around the edges.

“Bad day?” He asks. He takes Illumi’s empty wine glass and refills it gracefully. Illumi swallows around a useless tongue.

“Bad life.” He says when the words decide to make an appearance in his mouth. Hisoka chuckles like a bubbling stream, like he genuinely thinks that Illumi is the funniest person in the world. 

“Me too.” Hisoka clinks his glass against Illumi’s decisively. “Here’s to better luck in the next one.”

Illumi doesn’t really believe in reincarnation but he accepts the toast. All he can think is that he must have been a very bad person in his last life to deserve this one.

“We should take a vacation.” Hisoka waves a hand towards the commercial playing on the television. It depicts a large beach, white sand and turquoise waves with a friendly sun shining down. “I’m sure I could do with one after the exam. All that socialising rather took it out of me. Killing people is one thing but an interview with dear old Chairman Netero is more than my nerves can stand.”

He’s being obviously dramatic, draping himself over the arm of the couch  
like a glamour model. Illumi knows for a fact that Hisoka could have taken the Hunter’s exam in his sleep - perhaps he should have done. He would have stood less chance of being disqualified. 

Still, he thinks about the suggestion with more seriousness that he probably should. That expanse of sand looks incredibly tempting. He could dig himself a nice deep hole and let the waves wash over him. Hisoka would probably make sure that he wouldn’t drown. The more he looks, the more he likes the idea. He doesn’t even flinch when he feels Hisoka watching him and smiling like a cat.

Perhaps Illumi is madder than he had originally theorised. He has most certainly lost all of his reason. He is standing on an airfield, waiting for a ship which will take him and Hisoka away from the city and out towards a small group of islands used exclusively by very rich tourists. Hisoka is wearing a pink beach shirt with navy board shorts and a large sun hat, with his hair down and brushing his shoulders. People keep looking at him like he’s Illumi’s sugar baby. In reality it’s more like the opposite.

The problem is, is that Illumi loves Hisoka with the strange mad devotion which otherwise applies only to his family. He had realised this several years ago and had not told Hisoka on principle, but within a few weeks Illumi was sleeping in his bed, eating his sushi and tracking his every move (because that’s what Illumi does, when he loves someone). 

It’s inconvenient to fall in love with someone like Hisoka, who is both sane and insane in equal ways. He cannot be quantified by any measurement. Frustratingly, he claims to be very much in love with Illumi. Despite having never exactly mentioned his inconvenient adoration, Illumi had somehow managed to make Hisoka see it. Perhaps it’s the fact that Illumi no longer winces over Hisoka’s style choices. Perhaps it’s something to do with them sharing a bed. Whatever the cause: Hisoka is determined for them to have a blissful domestic life together alongside the bloody slaughter they regularly indulge in. And now Killua is gone and there is no one left to train, Illumi no longer has an excuse to say no to Hisoka.

Hence he stands on the airfield, ready for their imminent departure for their vacation.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” He tells Hisoka honestly. Illumi is honest to a fault. He never lies, or rather, he always tells his own version of the truth.

“Of course it’s a good idea. All my ideas are good.” Hisoka says, which is certainly not the truth. He nudges Illumi’s ribs gently with his elbow. “We’ll have the time of our lives. We both deserve a break. I’m sick of that,” He waves a dismissive hand in the general direction of Heaven’s Arena, which stands out boldly on the skyline. “And you are hurting, however much you refuse to admit it.”

Illumi frowns at the ground. He hates it when Hisoka is rational. If the psychopathic clown with the death wish and the sadomasochistic complex can see that Illumi has issues, then he must be well and truly screwed in the head. He’s known that for a long time but it isn’t nice to be reminded. Though he is loath to admit it, he prefers Hisoka in his darker moments when the animal in him bleeds through.

He doesn’t have time to form a reply, because Hisoka is tugging him towards their airship, which is ready for boarding. In the first class lounge, Hisoka orders whiskey on the rocks for them both. Illumi picks up Hisoka’s phone (a new, ridiculous model with a screen far too big for the average hand) and starts to play one of the games he has installed. Hisoka smiles indulgently.

“Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had sex?” He says eventually, dropping his voice so only Illumi can hear. Illumi doesn’t look up from the game, concentrating on his task of popping small coloured bubbles.

“The last time we had sex was on the island during the Hunter’s Exam. You insisted on me topping and you were very loud. I don’t know how many days it’s been exactly. I’ve been too busy.”

“Mmm.” Hisoka tilts his head back to observe a ceiling fan, spinning above his head. His neck is very attractive like that, with dips and shadows formed by his tendons and veins. Illumi half heartedly identifies the most effective way of severing one of those vital arteries. It’s a habit. “You put a pin in me to stop me screaming. It was hot. Shame nobody walked in on us in that little clearing.” He sits up and leans forward, chin on his hands. “When we get to the villa, you’ll have to make up for lost time. You being “too busy” has left me terribly frustrated.”

Illumi lets his lip twitch into a smile for a moment. Hisoka is a creature of passion but he gives Illumi his space when he needs it. Considering his personality as a whole it’s really quite sweet. And Illumi hasn’t felt like touching anyone, or being touched, for a little while now. Hisoka respects that in as much as he respects anything. 

“We’ll see,” He sniffs. “I might find something better to do with my time.” Even as he says it, though, he reaches out the pinky finger of his left hand and brushes it against one of Hisoka’s forearms. It feels good to touch someone who wants to feel it. Hisoka always wants Illumi’s touch, no matter what.

“I will have to work extra hard to deserve your attention then.” Hisoka draws back and allows Illumi to concentrate on his game. He realises how pleasant it is to be up in the air, away from the noise of the city - even out of reach of his father’s calls since the phone signal is poor. His father would not contact him anyway, believing Illumi to be on one of his own missions. Illumi hadn’t lied exactly but he had given the impression of being occupied for the next two weeks.

He brushes the toe of his shoe against Hisoka’s ankle just for the sake of seeing the magician smile. Illumi is nothing but an arch manipulator and if he can extend his skill to their relationship, so much the better. He will feel better, he thinks, having something practical to work on during their vacation. He’s quite sure his - people skills, Hisoka would say - can do with some polishing. 

They drift along slowly over the ocean, passing sea birds in the air and boats bobbing on the waves far below. It’s a pleasant journey and Illumi begins, imperceptibly, to retract his doubts about the vacation’s potential for success. By the time they reach the tiny airfield at the northern reaches of the island group, dusk has fallen. Hisoka takes care of the luggage and hires a cab to drive them to the villa. The tide is ebbing lowly, revealing causeways between the closer islands. Despite the popularity of the spot, it’s far too exclusive to ever be truly busy. Illumi suspects that Hisoka’s choice of location was a good one, though he wouldn’t admit so out loud.

Their villa perches on a private stretch of beach, reserved just for their personal use. It’s picturesque, with the sun setting into the sea. Their nearest neighbour is only just within hearing distance - the strains of a soft guitar drift over the hills to reach Illumi’s ears. Hisoka sets their luggage down on the veranda with a sigh, and collapses into the nearest sun lounger with no grace at all. When Illumi wrinkles his nose up Hisoka only smiles and opens his arms in invitation.

Feeling, as usual, perfectly insane, Illumi joins Hisoka on the lounger. It creaks ominously under their combined weight before settling. Illumi’s elbow jams into Hisoka’s abdomen in what is probably a very uncomfortable way, but he doesn’t complain. He just settles his chin onto the top of Illumi’s head and sighs out a breath through his nose. The last rays of sun sink insistently into the sea until a purple sky remains over them. Illumi closes his eyes and hopes fervently that Hisoka was telling the truth, when he said that there were no mosquitoes on the island.

There are mosquitoes. But Hisoka apologises profusely and carries Illumi to the cool marble shower and rubs cold cream into the small bites, until Illumi is too tired to be angry. He finally falls asleep for good in the clean linen bed, which smells faintly of lavender.

***

Hisoka is asleep when Illumi wakes up feeling naked and cool under the soft morning light. He steps out of bed and through the shady villa, letting his feet enjoy the cold tile floors. He selects a pair of swimming trunks from his luggage, intending to enjoy the beach before the heat of the day begins to sting. There’s something he’s been longing to do. The sand is already hot under his toes as he crosses it with slow, deliberate steps. The tide is as far in as it goes, brushing the strands of seaweed half way up the beach. It’s a beautiful morning and Illumi revels in being able to enjoy it, without having to kill anything.

The hole he digs is just large enough for him to sink into. The sand below surface level is cold and damp, just on the right side of sticky. It feels good against his bare skin. He curls himself up like a small animal in a burrow, letting the top of his head poke out. He can watch the waves rolling in and out with the regularity of deep breaths. It’s almost as good as the woods at home, where the soil is thin and dusty. He knows that this isn’t a normal thing to do, but this is his safety and his sanity. Surrounded but never trapped, always in control. He doesn’t close his eyes or even blink much. Every sense he has focuses on enjoying this. If he is mad then he should at least get something good out of it. Illumi is quite convinced that this is as good as it gets. With a slight prod of his zetsu he can feel Hisoka’s roiling presence. Close enough to comfort. 

The sun travels a little way across the sky, warming the sand slowly and surely. Illumi only allows himself to slide back into focus when he feels the rays poking into the back of his neck and burning the skin. He’s slow as he clambers out of the hole. The fine layer of sand drops slowly from his skin until he feels lighter and softer than he had before. He allows himself a smile in the direction of the ocean. 

He leaves a trail of sand on the tiled floor as he plods slowly towards the villa’s kitchen - in the general direction of Hisoka’s aura, which is at its calmest. Illumi knows that he’s cooking because he can already feel the focus within him, suppressing his usual wild spikes of energy. Hisoka likes to cook, or to watch other people cooking, or even to go to a restaurant in the knowledge that someone in the general vicinity has been cooking recently. 

Illumi watches from the doorway. Hisoka has his hair down and natural still, but he’s tied it up with an elastic band to keep it from his eyes. Illumi winces at the thought of allowing such a thing anywhere near his own hair, but at least it isn’t bungee gum. From what Illumi can tell, Hisoka is making omelettes with all kinds of meats and cheeses. It smells good and makes his mouth start to water.

Hisoka likes food in the way that he also likes sex, and in the way that Illumi likes digging deep holes in the ground to dream away in. It nurtures something within him which requires attention. Illumi knows very little about Hisoka’s childhood but he knows about the starvation, the neglect and the weakness. The living off garbage and the begging for scraps. Illumi knows these things because when Hisoka has nightmares, he wakes up clutching his stomach and screaming.

Illumi doesn’t quite understand what it is to be hungry but he knows what it is to hunger for things that aren’t edible. In the way that Hisoka indulges Illumi’s need for darkened rooms and limited touch, Illumi indulges Hisoka too. He eats the food that he cooks, he accepts the perpetual presence of candy, and he never mentions the nightmares.

“Did you have a nice morning?” Hisoka smiles in Illumi’s general direction. “I’m calling this brunch, since it’s probably a bit late for breakfast. Would you like pepper on yours?”

Illumi nods in response to both questions and sits daintily at the breakfast bar, noticing for the first time that Hisoka is wearing one of his t shirts. The material stretches quite obscenely over his shoulders and it makes Illumi blush before he can manage to suppress the urge. Hisoka smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. In all honesty, he probably does.

Hisoka eats like someone who picked up proper table manners when it was a bit too late to do him any good. But Illumi has had four younger siblings and he most certainly doesn’t have his mother’s expectations when it comes to knives and folks and elbows on tables. He enjoys his omelette quickly and with relish. Then he simply watches Hisoka, taking advantage of the fact that he has the leisure to do just that. He’s an assassin at heart and he can’t stop himself from learning things about Hisoka’s anatomy from every tilt of his head or movement of his hand.

When he leans forward on the table, cheek resting on one hand, Hisoka looks oddly contented. His yellowish eyes usually suit passion or murder or confrontation. Illumi supposes that his own eyes are much the same. But Hisoka does look happy with his empty plate and his full stomach. In another life, maybe he’d be like this all the time. But then, Illumi reflects, he knows the workings of Hisoka’s mind well enough by now. Just like him, Hisoka will never be truly happy. He’ll get brief flashes of it, like waking dreams. And he’s at peace with that.

While Hisoka pops a piece of gum into his mouth and closes his eyes, Illumi slips from his seat and silently crosses the few steps to where Hisoka is sitting. At the very least he must feel Illumi coming because he doesn’t flinch when the cold hand slips around the back of his neck, or when the full weight of one lithe assassin settles in his lap. Illumi makes himself comfortable, presses one hand against Hisoka’s chest and drags downwards. Imagining Hisoka as a starving child is almost impossible. He is as solid as a mountain range, one long line of heat from head to toe. Still, Illumi thumbs over his ribs until he’s found every one nestled into a warm pad of muscle. He briefly entertains the idea of breaking one. Hisoka would enjoy that.

But there’s a bird trilling softly from the sand dunes, and Hisoka’s stomach is a steady warmth beneath his hand. Illumi decides to leave the rough play for another time. For one long moment, he allows himself to be what he never has been before: just a man, sitting on his partner’s lap. Enjoying the warmth of another human being and accepting his own peculiar brand of madness. For as long as the bird continues to sing he can allow himself to have this without questioning or fighting against it.


	2. Chapter 2

“If you don’t wear sunblock you’re going to get burnt.” Illumi says, staring at Hisoka’s prone body spread out on the sand. He’s naked, and he must have sand in all kinds of unpleasant places. Illumi himself has spent minutes diligently smoothing his own pale with white cream. It’s a specific brand with a specific smell, the only one he likes. Hisoka buys it in bulk from the pharmacy but never seems to use it.

“Texture Surprise doesn’t burn.” Hisoka replies, arching his back off the sand and blinking up at Illumi. “Don’t worry about me darling. I’m quite well protected.”

Illumi tilts his head and runs his gaze up and down Hisoka’s body in one long appraisal. He’s perfect in every sense of the word, not a blemish in sight. He should have scars - Illumi has scars all over the place. He counts them when he struggles to fall asleep. But Hisoka is flawless. Under Illumi’s eyes he smirks and rolls his hips playfully.

“You should take it off. I mean, you could. If you wanted to. Around me.” Illumi flounders to the end of his sentence without knowing quite why he had started it in the first place. He blushes very slightly and digs his hands into the sand. Hisoka just smiles and rolls over and over until his face is level with Illumi’s lap.

“If you just want to check that I’m not enhancing my cock in some way, I can promise you that I’m not.” He purrs, and bites Illumi’s thigh. “Nobody’s ever asked me to take it off before. I’m not half as pretty underneath as I am like this.”

Illumi looks down at him. “I think I already know what you’re like underneath. And inside. I want to see, so I can look at you and know you. All of you.”

“A dangerous thing to want, Illu.” Hisoka murmurs. “I never imagined, when we first met, that you’d want that. I thought you were... Saner than me. You looked at me and I could feel every judgement you made. I’m so glad we were both so wrong about each other.”

Illumi has always known that they are both as mad as each other, but he keeps this knowledge to himself and looks down at Hisoka expectantly. Ever the magician, he has to make it into a show: arching his back yet again and performing some kind of trick with the sunlight. A layer of nen that is something and nothing shimmers away. Hisoka looks up at Illumi and waits.

Illumi reaches out and traces his finger across Hisoka’s freckles. He has dozens of them littering his cheeks and even his arms. They stand out on his skin like stars among the scars. There are a scattering of them too, across his sharp nose and his long neck. There’s a huge, barely healed patch of skin across his shoulder, tender and pink. An old bullet wound on his chest, and a hundred other little things which Illumi catalogues individually with his fingers and eyes. Hisoka lies still, his eyes a constant burnished gold under the sun as he watches Illumi at work.

He doesn’t realise that he’s turned on, his aura pulsing a light mauve around him. Hisoka’s body has always been attractive but there’s something more this time. Something like a secret shared between lovers, which makes Illumi feel wholly special. Hisoka responds in kind with a slow touch of his own: taking Illumi’s wrist, strong enough to control. Bringing the slim hand to his lips and kissing each fingertip. The clenching around Illumi’s wrist is almost enough to break the bone. Coupled with each sweet kiss he shudders under a delicious pulse of want. He keens softly and Hisoka’s aura flares into a mass of deep need, pleasure and pain, so he straddles Hisoka’s hips desperately and allows his toes to dig deep into the sand. Their skin feels rougher, sliding together. Illumi can feel the way Hisoka’s hip bones flare out in two painfully sharp angles. When he grinds himself down he glories in the fact that Hisoka Morow is alive and whole, well fed and strong. Knowing this, knowing everything that Hisoka is (down to the smallest freckle) tightens the knot of desire within him until he has to moan without shame.

He never thought he’d be allowed to know anyone, in the way he knows Hisoka.

Illumi draws his hand over the long knife scars on Hisoka’s chest. He finds pinpricks of old wounds too and wonders if they were made by his own needles. He shudders deliciously at the thought that he has had a hand in marking Hisoka, and suddenly he knows that he has to do it again. He presses his thumbs deep into the notch of Hisoka’s collar bones and pulls a sharp whine from deep inside. Bruises bloom so easily under his fingertips, every one followed by some kind of moan or gasp. Hisoka is always so loud, so shameless in his pleasure. It dawns on Illumi that neither of them should be enjoying this and he laughs high and sharp. More of the same madness that pulls them together.

He’s in no place to be making demands, but Hisoka grips Illumi’s hips and hisses a sharp sound of satisfaction. “I want you to ride me baby. Use my cock to fill your pretty little hole. Show me how much you love to put me in my place. You want to be in charge, pretty doll? You can have that.”

Illumi growls and leans forward to manhandle Hisoka’s sharp jaw and tilt his head back. He mouths at the column of his neck and the sharp sweat on his skin, moving two fingers up and jamming them roughing at his lips. Hisoka opens his mouth wide and takes it all. Saliva drips down Illumi’s wrist and he shudders as he bites down and finally draws blood from Hisoka’s neck. Everything feels good, from Hisoka’s claw-like nails ripping at his thighs, to the burn of his own fingertips probing and stretching his hole. It feels different to prepare himself so roughly and filthily in the open air, with Hisoka underneath him like a coiled spring of passion.

He scrabbles forward and clings to Hisoka’s shoulders tightly, bringing drops of blood to the surface of his skin. Illumi raises himself in position with every nerve trembling and sinks down on Hisoka’s cock with a cry of anguished pleasure. It hurts: the stretch burns and aches and brings tears to his eyes. Beneath him Hisoka writhes in a similar agony of ecstasy, leaning up and almost curling in on himself. His hands come to Illumi’s hips and begin to lift him up and down with a kind of terrifying strength. Illumi sinks into the rhythm of it, mouth finding Hisoka’s neck to lick at the blood leaking there.

The stretch and burn sends him tumbling straight into deep pleasure- he’s sure he’s never deserved anything as good as this. Hisoka is a blur of pale freckled skin and dark spots of blood. He’s dimly aware of both of their breathing finding a kind of harmony punctuated by whimpers and moans. Hisoka is beautiful like this: real, with his hair sweat stained and tangled and his skin a mottled pink and white. The lack of perfection makes Illumi feel at home with him. The tears in his eyes break away and tingle their way down his cheeks.

“Illumi, I’m going to cum.” Hisoka groans the words like they’re sacred. Illumi grinds himself down in one fluid motion, pushing Hisoka as deep as he can possibly go. His head falls back and his hair sprays out around him, his aura spiking like a live wild thing. He feels his own walls squeeze and hears Hisoka scream his way into an orgasm. His vision darkens and he cums hard until he collapses forward under the force of it. Hisoka catches him and rolls to the side, cupping Illumi’s close to his body. It feels almost better than the sex itself: the being held like this, under his own terms.

They lie quietly for a long time, dirty in the sand. Illumi breathes in time with the distant waves. Hisoka brushes his fingers through his hair. When Illumi finally finds the strength to sit up slowly, he takes stock of Hisoka’s appearance in another attempt to commit it to memory: blood around his neck and cum on his stomach. He looks like this is what he was really made for. When he smiles, Illumi feels like that smile is meant exactly and only for him.

“Do you really want to die?” He asks, never taking his eyes from Hisoka’s face. It’s an odd question, but Hisoka always humours questions like this.

“Yes and no.” He stretches his arm and traces a pattern on Illumi’s chest. “I would like very much to be killed - preferably by you, my baby doll. To be killed in some very extraordinary way is the very height of what I want. If I could be killed without dying, that would be preferable. Seeing as I can’t... I can only rely upon the fact that my death will be memorable.”

Illumi nods slowly, absorbing Hisoka’s own particular brand of madness. He picks up the sunblock from the ground and begins to spread it methodically onto the bridge of Hisoka’s nose. It seems an important thing to do. As he goes to move away, Hisoka catches hold of his wrist and kisses the open palm of his hand.

“I’m glad you came on vacation with me, darling. It’s done wonders for you already.” He traces Illumi’s life line slowly. “I’d tell your fortune but I think that might make us both unhappy. And you deserve to be happy.” He releases Illumi’s hand and pushes himself into a sitting position.

Illumi stares down at his open palm. He deserves to be happy. Such a foreign concept: he stores it away to ruminate on later.

“I like that you’re even further out of your mind than me.” He says softly. “I think you are the only person I could ever love like this. Outside of family.” He looks at the back of Hisoka’s neck. The knob of his spin is prominent despite the layers of muscle. There are marks on his back which Illumi recognises as whip-scars. He has a touch of scoliosis and his right shoulder blade pops out further than the other. Illumi wonders how many people know these things about Hisoka. Those who learn too much usually end up dead.

Hisoka stands up and stretches, before swooping down with the grace of a dancer to scoop Illumi into his arms. He laughs like the child he probably never was.

“When we get married, I promise to carry you over the threshold of our home, just like this.”

“If you can ever afford to marry me - and I can guarantee that you never will - I’ll stick a pin in your dick and render you impotent on our wedding night. Then I’ll get an annulment on the grounds of your sexual incompetence and I’ll be sure to take your money as well as your reputation.” Illumi folds his arms and tries not to lean into the warmth of Hisoka’s chest, which is beginning to shake with mirth.

“Oh, Illu! You’ve got it all planned out, how sweet!” 

He deposits Illumi gently on the tiled floor of the shower. The water comes on scaldingly hot, but Illumi doesn’t mind. He scrubs the sand methodically from every orifice while Hisoka looks on with a lazy smile. The tops of his ears have caught the sun and will probably start to peel tomorrow. Illumi tries to hide a smile behind the curtain of his own hair.

He thinks he might be losing his mind all over again, but in a different way to last time. Just like before he’s powerless to stop it. Much like before the love in his heart is burning to be let out. But this time - at least for a little while - it has somewhere to go. 

Hisoka smiles and kisses Illumi softly under the shower spray.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, I actually feed on comments like Hisoka feeds on violence and omelettes. So uh. Please?
> 
> A second fun fact - Made in Azia is a popular reality TV show in which spoilt 20 somethings date each other, argue, go clubbing and have emotional conversations with cameras. It is not in any way derived from the famed UK TV show Made in Chelsea. Honestly.


End file.
